Trio of Tales
by Enabeans
Summary: Three drabbles for the prompts: "Nightmares", "Holding Hands" and "Suffer". Characters involved are Abel, Lilith and Cain. Two drabbles are set in the Red Mars Era, and one after Armageddon. COMPLETE.


_A/N: These are three small drabbles about various points in Abel's life. Written as a Christmas present for Mako. I hope she knows how much she means to me, not just in the holiday season, but all year round._

**Nightmares**

Abel Nightroad never admitted weakness, not in front of them and rarely in front of his family, it was all part of masking the hurt deep inside. If he never showed it, if he never gave into it, then perhaps he would actually care as little as the persona he projected in his anger. It was a sad lesson and one he had learned before he had even hit puberty – violent and dead-eyed, walking with his head held high and a challenge written across his face.

When the scientists came for him he fought and bit and kicked, but he never cried or screamed. When they subjected him to degrading and painful tests, he spat in their eyes and grit his teeth against the pain and the treacherous tears that he wouldn't let fall. And when Cain hurried to his bedside when it was all done, he brusquely told his twin to stop being such a wuss and turned his face to the wall.

But in the dead of night, when darkness cloaked his impersonal sleeping quarters, that's when the nightmares came. Jarring images of horrific experiments, of his family screaming and bleeding, of a future spent entirely in chains – helpless, useless, hopeless. He would wake with a shriek that tore his throat raw, tears bubbling over down his cheeks, and wish with all his heart and soul to sear the images out of his mind. Always, without fail, arms would fold around him in a gentle embrace. His twin's soft blond hair brushing over his cheek, as Cain pulled Abel's head to his shoulder, words a low and soft mumble.

"I've got you."

The soft sound of Cain's breathing was a comfort, one he would never say out loud that he cherished at moments like this. His brother always seemed so strong and confident, he always knew what to do and, most of all, he was always there for Abel when he needed it most. Words of churlish denial of his fear dried up on Abel's lips and for just this one night, the fiercely proud boy would curl closer and greedily take the comfort to soothe his hurt.

* * *

><p><strong>Holding Hands<strong>

Dating had never been something high on Abel's to-do list. It wasn't that he didn't have feelings for anyone (he had some quite strong feelings for a certain red-head), but that he had no idea how to express himself in anything other than violence now. It had been the only language that mattered to him for so long, he didn't know _how_ to change, and... he was afraid. Afraid to let someone beneath the surface to where his true feelings were hidden, he was deathly scared of being so vulnerable with another person - even someone who he knew would never abuse that position ever.

It had taken a night of solid drinking in the seedier districts of the colony, before he had the courage to stumble to her door. Not exactly thinking straight, he had laid his head on the cool metal of her door and knocked. The sight that had awakened Lilith, was a pathetic and puppy-eyed drunkard, reeking of alcohol and with a black eye already forming from a bar fight earlier in the day. She hadn't admonished him, nor chided him about the late hour, nor even asked what he was doing outside her door... all she had done was lift a hand to tenderly cup his cheek, thumb smoothing over pale skin.

"My silly boy."

"...m'not."

Abel's slur had been more disappointment than rebuke. His heart was twisting in his chest and he felt sick (and not just from the lake of whiskey he had consumed), butterflies fluttering around his stomach almost violently. His mouth wasn't even connected to his brain at the moment; if he knew what he was saying, he would have gone beet red in mortification.

"M'not _yours_." He repeated insistently. "...wish I was, and you... could be..."

A dull flush infused Lilith's cheeks as she smiled fondly, amused at his clumsy way of telling her what she had already known for years. Of course she felt the same, he should know that, but he was such a stubbornly blind thing sometimes. Yet she knew that deep inside his heart, underneath the anger and the pain, was a man who truly had an immense capacity for love. Standing on her tip-toes to reach his height, she drew him down to press a light and fleeting kiss to his lips, repeating herself quietly.

"My silly boy."

Abel... stared. He looked almost comical, eyes wide open and mouth gaping slightly as he tried to process what had just happened. She... kissed him, she actually kissed him, and then she said- His face suddenly turned a bright red, hand coming up to cover his eyes in embarrassment as he struggled to find something to say. What? _What?_

Lilith didn't seem to mind the silence, patiently watching him as it sank in slowly. Words weren't that important, not now, and so she chose to back up her feelings with something much more meaningfully, sliding her fingers into his. Abel started like a deer startled by a loud noise, looking down dumbly at their fingers entwined together... His heart was thudding so hard that he was sure it was about to break out of his chest, brain finally catching up to latch onto one simple thought to make a rare smile break across his face.

They were... holding hands.

* * *

><p><strong>Suffer<strong>

"All we do is suffer."

Abel's voice was shaking in anger, almost apoplectic with rage as he stared at his brother on the other side of the glass, handcuffs clinking at his wrists yet again.

"There is _ nothing_ to be grateful for living here. You're deluding yourself, fucking pretending the shit doesn't stink by spraying it with perfume."

He knew he was right, even if the truth of that knowledge made his heart hurt viciously. He wanted to believe what Cain said, he wanted to believe all those flowery words about a better future and being grateful for being born just for the chance to have his family. But they were all bullshit. What good was having each other if all they did was watch each other get hurt, get used, get trampled on for the circumstances of their birth? It wasn't fair, it wasn't right, and... it wasn't going to change. It was the worst suffering Abel could imagine, sitting helplessly in this prison of a life to watch his loved ones get ground down until there was nothing left, until they were all used u[ and worthless to their owners.

How bitterly ironic it was that he didn't learn the full truth of Cain's words until it was far too late.

Sitting in the dark and dank crypt, dull eyes tirelessly watching the utterly still corpse of the woman he loved, Abel would have given anything to go back to that time and redo it all again. He had been such a fool, such a blind idiot. He hadn't been suffering then, he hadn't even known the meaning of the word, he should have been grateful for whatever life he was given as long as it was beside his family.

And now, without them, alone forever... _ this_ was suffering.


End file.
